After a few minutes of silence, a voice—that voice—boomed through the room. I had no idea how many “buyers” there were, but there were at least two.
“Well, she’s a pretty little one.”
I didn’t answer; I knew to just wait for direction. This was his rape. I had little to do with it. I was simply his means to an end. What kind of depraved person did this? Live-streamed rape to the highest bidder . . . How were there people out there sick enough to do that . . . and to pay for that shit?
Who knew there was such big money in passively participating in a rape? I had no idea how much they paid. I was sure it was a hell of a lot more than I received—not that I kept any of the money. Every last penny of my income from each job went to my ‘victim’. Honestly, I wanted nothing to do with it. The less I could associate myself with all of it, the better.
“Is she still conscious?”
I walked over to her and removed the gag, and tapped her softly on the cheek. She began to cry. I couldn’t tell if the tears were real or just for his benefit, but it ripped my heart out all the same.
“Wonderful. This one we will keep lucid. I want to see the pain in her eyes. I love seeing that fear.” He chuckled, a sound that twisted through my heart, shredding it to pieces. I leaned forward and slipped the blindfold from over her eyes.
My heart pounded as I stared into them, so scared and brimming with fear. This wasn’t acting—she was genuinely terrified. It was one thing to be passed out and not remember anything, but to have no control and no idea what was coming next . . .
“Untie her. I want her on that table.”
I did as I was asked, slowly unravelling her from the chair. Once the ropes were free from her, I grabbed a handful of her long blonde hair and forced her to her feet. The key was to be as forceful as I could without hurting her. She knew me, she trusted me; the last thing I wanted to do was break that trust. I jerked her forward, dragging her over to the table. Lifting her by the hips, I sat her on the edge and pushed her down until her back was flat
against the cold metal. She gasped and closed her eyes, blinking back tears.
Her legs were fused tightly together. She was doing so well, as if she were sensing what I needed from her. I needed that fear, that reluctance, because as soon as he caught even the smallest sniff of something being off, he’d be gone.
I had one chance at this.
“Stick your fingers in her pussy. Make her nice and wet.”
I pried her legs apart and slid two fingers inside her. She cried out and tried to push my hand away. I forced them back inside, this time harder.
With the cameras switched off, I shut off my laptop and packed it up, ready to get the fuck out of there. Cassandra sat on the edge of the bed, watching me. I walked over to her and sat down.
“I’m sorry,” I began.
“Don’t be. What you’re doing . . . you need to catch this sick fuck, Mace. He’s not the only one, is he? That was a different guy,” she whispered.
I nodded.
I couldn’t be sure exactly how many there were, but he was the second ‘client’ I’d dealt with. There were women out there going through this for real. For them, it was no act. There was no payment, only torture—and who knows what else. I hadn’t been asked to do anything beyond rape, but I couldn’t help but wonder.
“Did . . . did I hurt you?” I asked, curling my arm around her shoulder. I felt nothing beyond compassion and respect for Cass. It took a strong person to do what she had just done.
“No. I’m fine, Mace. Just promise me you will catch this sicko. I . . . I can’t stop thinking about Anna.” Her voice broke as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Me too,” I muttered, anger raging through my body.
#
I walked her to her car and waited until she had safely driven away. Once she was out of sight, I got into my car and started the engine. I had no idea what to do next. It felt like I was stuck on the same piece of the puzzle, and I couldn’t quite reach the next step. I was missing something, but what?
I checked my phone. A message from Leeta flashed up, and my stomach dropped.
Sorry babe, not feeling well. Will call you tomorrow xx
“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming my fists against the dashboard.
Why am I so damn angry?
The guilt was eating me up inside. I could wrap it up however I wanted, but when it came down to it, she was never going to forgive me for this. I couldn’t tell her. I’d lose her for sure. And stopping this wasn’t an option, either. Those sick cunts needed to be fucked over for what they did to Anna—what they were still doing to God knows how many innocent women. If it wasn’t for me, those two clients would have paid someone else to rape those women.